


Not your fault

by ktenologious



Series: Terrible kink meme fills [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Age Difference, Child Abuse, Crossdressing, F/M, Forced Crossdressing, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktenologious/pseuds/ktenologious
Summary: [Kink Meme fill] Sylvain is eight and he might justhateIngrid's grandmother.
Relationships: Ingrid's Grandmother/Sylvain
Series: Terrible kink meme fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760548
Kudos: 11





	Not your fault

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme fill, now de-anon’d because lmao:  
> "We all know that in canon (jp dub), miklan and his bandit gang calls syl "ojousan." Now combine that with sylvain in a dress befitting the nickname. Can range from fics to art. Let us have more shotavain in dress!
> 
> Bonus if you involve either
> 
> +older female dressing him up for gods know why and does what she wants  
> +Miklan and his gang (can be noncon abduction can be something sweeter)
> 
> OP only dislikes scat, omorashi, and extreme gore. Anything else is a fair game"
> 
>  **Warnings** for non/dubcon, underage (Sylvain is 8), really large age gap, crossdressing

It takes about five visits and a few years for Sylvain to figure out what feels so wrong about this whole situation.

Lady Galatea is old. She is old, and quiet, and a little wrinkled, and her hands feel like ice on Sylvain’s skin no matter how warm the day is. Every single time she touches him it is like death spreads from her hands and into his blood and down his bones, every time she kisses him it is like she is taking his breath away. She is old, and quiet, and a little wrinkled, and Sylvain might just hate her.

He is not supposed to _hate_ her. He is not supposed to hate anyone: always polite, always smiling, hide your true feelings or be punished. He is not supposed to hate her but he can’t _help_ it, and he feels terrible about it. She is Ingrid’s grandmother, _Ingrid’s_ role model, not as old as other grandmothers, definitely not as old as Sylvain’s own grandparents; the matriarch of the family and her granddaughter’s favorite person and—

And, well, she does _this_. Whenever she is here, whenever she so much as looks at him , she does _this_. In real life, or in her mind, or in her words, she will force him to go against what he wants and to please her fantasies, and Sylvain really hates her. Her, and her family, and he might hate Ingrid and Glenn as well—

( _You are being stupid, Sylvain, stop blaming your actions on anyone else!_ )

He shudders, because he is not supposed to hate anyone. Remember, Sylvain, always polite, always smiling, hide your true feelings. You are already eight, act like an adult, don’t let anyone see your fear, do not—

( _Don’t act like a child, Princess, you are supposed to be stronger than me._ )

Sylvain smooths the skirts of his new dress with sweaty hands. It is made of some shiny fabric, probably silk, and the skirt _flutters_ around his knees whenever he takes a single step. The top is simple enough, reaching his elbows, with a little cape that covers his shoulders, but it leaves his forearm and wrists uncovered and that makes him feel so very _naked_. It is shades of blue with some gold designs, fine embroidery at the hems and sleeves, and comes with a tiny medallion he is supposed to wear as well.

It isn’t anything like what he is used to, nothing like the heavy wool dresses and long skirts that Mother puts him in when she works on her hobby. He _likes_ those dresses, because they are made from scratch by Mother, and are made thinking of cold and long winters, of horse riding and goat herding. They are Gautier dresses in Sreng fashion, and he prefers them over _anything_ Lady Galatea shoves into his hands.

It is too much. He feels defenseless, slow and heavy, the heels at his feet making him walk in tiny steps in fear they will break. The shoes are so _delicate_ , fine wood and cloth and leather with a needle-thin heel that are pretty useless to walk in snow.

Sylvain _likes_ dresses. He enjoys them. He likes wearing them, at times: people rarely look too close at him when he is wearing thick skirts and blouses from Mother’s craft. Some people know who he is, and some are _curious_ about his identity, but he is left alone as all redheaded young girls in their land are meant to be. He is not a woman, doesn’t want to be a woman, but at times the anonymity that came from being a Sreng girl is… He wants that, wants to get the eyes off his back, the whispers that speak cruel words and sick fantasies. He wants to get out.

He cannot, though.

Lady Galatea inspects him after he goes back to her. She takes his hand, makes him do a little twirl. She looks at him from every angle she can look, a small smile in her thin lips and an amused glint in her eyes. It is the same as it always is: nothing has changed, nothing will ever change. He will be eight, thirteen, _twenty_ and Lady Galatea will still look at him like he is just a doll to be dressed up.

“This suits you so well,” she says, her wrinkled cold hands on his thigh, his wrist, his neck. He shudders at the ice on his skin: the window is open and they are in Gautier, it is freezing out there, yet her touch is the coldest he has ever felt. Her fingers run down his leg, squeezing his knee while she hums in appreciation. “You remind me so much of your parents when they were your age. Such a good boy, aren’t you, Sylvain?”

He nods, quiet as she lifts her skirts and makes him kneel before her. The heavy fabrics fall around him, his shameful figure hidden from sight and hearing. Her hand settles at the back of his head, coaxing him on, and he grasps at the silk of his new dress to prepare himself for what he will need to do. 

(What else is he supposed to do?)

“Now, let’s review what you have learned, yes?”


End file.
